


The Final Parting

by RavenWhitecastle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feels, Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 14:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1431775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/RavenWhitecastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the prequel to my short story, "Sam Winchester, Rest in Peace." This is the actual death scene of Sam Winchester. This one hurt a lot to write too, but I'm pleased with the final result. I debated between who should be the figure at the end, thinking that maybe it should be his Mom or John, but I think you'll be satisfied with who he meets. :)<br/>Maturity warning for strong language. Some of it probably would have ended up in the actual show (which doesn't belong to me, neither does Sam or Dean, no copyright infringement intended), some of it might not have made it. Either way, I think this is how it would have played out. This probably takes place before the most reason season finale, because now Sam and Dean have bigger problems to deal with and SPOILERS they wouldn't be able to have angels on either side because they ARE no angels, so... well then. <br/>Comments and criticism are greatly appreciated, I do not own Supernatural or Sam or Dean (sadly), and thanks for taking the time to read!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Parting

It had been a standard exorcism. It only took Sam and Dean a few days to find the source of all the demon activity on Mount Horn. They were armed to the teeth going in, and Sam had the page in John's journal bookmarked with a dog-ear. A simple exorcism.  
How had it gone so wrong?  
That was all that was going through Dean's head as he cradled his little brother's head. A gunshot wound to the chest was slowly bleeding out on the floor of the cabin. Sam coughed feebly as Dean pressed his overshirt to the wound. Sam shouted out in pain as Dean put the pressure on to stop the bleeding.  
Dean carefully propped his brother up against the wall, all the while murmuring, "Hang in there Sammy, we're gonna get you outta here, you're gonna be just fine."  
Sam smiled with half his face. It didn't reach his eyes. "Never thought I'd go out like this."  
Dean glared at Sam. "Don't talk like that."  
"Always thought we'd die in the hail of glory at the end of the world. The real end, the one we couldn't stop, but we'd sure as hell try. Like a couple of idiots, we'd try to stop it, and there'd be a dozen angels on either side of us, wings outspread in a blaze of light. And the walls would be coming down around us, time running out on every clock, but we wouldn't give a damn, cuz we'd take down as many sons of bitches as we could."  
Dean desperately tried to staunch the injury so he could get Sam to safety. "Shut up, Sammy," he growled, focusing on his work.  
"Fire would rain down from the heavens, we'd be surrounded by angels, and the voice of God would be ringing out all around. It would be like nothing we'd ever seen, and we've seen a lot." Sam coughed up a little blood, and Dean's eyes widened. "I'd hoped I'd be around to see that," Sam whispered weakly.  
"Shut up!" Dean snapped. "We're both gonna make it out of here, and I promise we're both gonna live to see the Apocalypse."  
"Dean," Sam said, taking a hold of his brother's arm. "You have to go stop that demon. It's what we do. Hunt things."  
The older Winchester tried desperately to keep his voice from breaking. "But we save people, too. I'm gonna save you, Sammy."  
Sam shook his head. "It's too late. You have to keep going. Stop that demon." He coughed up some more blood, and his gaze started drifting off to the side, away from Dean's face.  
Dean gripped Sam's face and growled, "Hold on, Sammy. Just hold on, okay?"  
"Keep up the good fight, soldier," Sammy murmured. "I love you."  
"I love you, too," Dean sobbed, "and I'll prove it to you if you just hold on."  
Sam chuckled weakly. "Jerk."  
Dean smiled, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall. "Bitch."  
The light faded from Sam's eyes and they fluttered shut. Dean sobbed, cradling his little brother's broken body in his arms and whispering his name over and over. "Sammy. Oh, Sammy." A scream of rage and sorrow tore itself from Dean's throat as he held Sam's held in his hands.  
Gently, he lowered his little brother and stroked Sam's hair tenderly. A snarl was plastered on his face as he stood and grabbed his gun. "You killed my brother, you son of a bitch," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "Now come out and die like the worthless bastard you are." Weapon raised, he stormed into the next room like a hurricane, screaming, "COME OUT AND PLAY, MOTHERFUCKER!"  
Sam's head had rolled to the side, cheek to the floor and facing the wall. Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing at the bright light that was filtering into the room. Voices called out to him from every direction, creating a chorus of harmony. Painfully, he stood, rolling his shoulders and neck to relieve the stiffness. Something twisted in his chest and he looked down to see the blood disappearing from his plaid shirt.  
A shadow was approaching him. He looked up and raised a hand to shield his eyes. The voices got louder, the figure got clearer, and Sam's eyes widened. A soft moan escaped his lips, and he walked towards the shadow. His eyes were teary with disbelief and joy. Tow hands reached out to take his, and he whispered one word:  
"Jess."


End file.
